The Knight's Scarred Maiden. Nicole Locke

she said evenly.

      ‘Then you know we murder and thieve for a living. Can you kill and steal?’ He stared pointedly until her eyes turned mutinous. ‘I didn’t think so. You are of no use to us. You will only be a burden.’

      * * *

      Helissent forced herself to look directly into Rhain’s gaze, clear as anything despite the hood he wore. Forced herself not to turn when his eyes roved all over her features taking in every old and new injury. Out of a lifetime of habit, she turned her head to display her scarred side. Felt his eyes there, but they didn’t stay and he didn’t wince or show pity.

      It was probably because he already took his fill of her scars last night.

      The moment Rhain left last night, she’d planned her escape. It didn’t matter how much Rhain or his man Nicholas threatened Rudd. They would be gone and Rudd would seek his vengeance. She couldn’t remain.

      There was no home for her any more. She had to find a home of her own and the only way to do that was to get out of the village. But a woman travelling alone wouldn’t get very far. She had to travel with this man. This man who told her he wouldn’t take her.

      ‘I was told you intend to travel north. I merely want passage to York. I can cook. I know you have no one doing that for you now.’

      A certain light entered his eyes. A calculating disapproval. She wasn’t sure as he eyed the men behind her. ‘You were told our destination and told we had no one to cook for us.’ Then he raised one sardonic brow and she felt all the mockery of all the ages bearing down on her. ‘These men are not pampered and do not need fine fare.’

      She wasn’t prepared for him to say no, let alone a rebuttal, but she wouldn’t give up. ‘I can help with horses, or generally. I hardly eat anything at all.’

      He slowly shook his head through her suggestions and his lips turned almost cruel. ‘If there’s a woman in the camp, there would be only one reason she was there.’

      At first, she didn’t understand. There was nothing in her history to allow her to understand. It was only how the men behind him suddenly stiffened and shifted. It was merely the cutting cruelty of his voice that reminded her about last night. Last night when he rescued her from those men, who’d almost raped her.

      Did he believe she’d burst into womanly tears and run away? Never. He was telling her if she went with them she’d be a camp whore. She didn’t blush because she wasn’t capable. Even so, she wanted to laugh. Broken, brittle, but genuine all the same. Did he think his men would actually want her? Nobody would want her. She didn’t even want herself. She hadn’t saved her sister from the fire as she promised—like a coward she wanted the flames to consume her, too. Now she wore the deep scars of that shame.

      And all of that, though true, wasn’t at the heart of the matter. Because last night she was almost raped or worse and he had saved her. She did know one truth. He wasn’t Rudd. ‘Are you telling me I’ll be treated worse than I was last night?’

      The brackets around his tight jaw and mouth didn’t soften with remorse or pity. Instead, a muscle jumped in his jaw.

      Then he flipped his cape to the side and reached in a pouch around his waist. She heard the unmistakable sound of coins as he opened his hand and offered them to her without looking at the amount.

      When she didn’t step forward, he threw them on to the bag at her feet and addressed the youngest one in the group who had walked closer to her. In fact, all the men almost circled her. Their frowns were fierce and she felt a shiver of nervousness.

      She didn’t know these men despite approaching them this morning. Despite speaking to the man called Nicholas, who suffered from a sword scar across one eye and was larger than any man had the right to be.

      The rest had stayed quiet as she’d talked to Nicholas. Some had eyes as cold and unforgiving as any mercenary’s eyes, while others appeared merely curious. It was Nicholas who was friendly, though he seemed to have some agenda when he said she could wait for Rhain to arrive. So that’s all she did. Wait, while shivering from the mist and trembling from the pain and exhaustion. She waited.

      Now these men looked as though they meant to haul her away, so she widened her stance. She waited because there was no other place for her to go. She’d fought those men last night and she would do it again.

      Rhain faced them all and pointed to the boy. ‘Take those bags and help her return home.’

      When he turned to her, she felt his stare, felt the animosity from him. She had meant to insult him with her comment and succeeded. He’d saved her and she’d lumped him in with her would-be rapists. But he still refused to take her.

      After his generous coin for her cakes, after he complimented them and her, after he saved her, she thought he was kind. But in the light of morning, she reflected on the other sides to him. The fact he was a mercenary and he kept his hood up, as if hiding his face, like a wanted man. The fact he knocked those men unconscious with deadly accuracy and today she heard the cold hardness in his voice. Then there were his shadows. Always his shadows.

      She didn’t know this man at all. He fully intended to leave her here even knowing Rudd awaited her. She had no other compensation to offer for her passage, nothing to barter with except his sweet tooth.

      ‘I made the rest of the cakes,’ she said in a rush.

      Stillness. Unnatural. As if she’d shocked him. No sharp breath, no blinking of his amber eyes. His face, his body as unmoving as stone now covered with heavy mist that was turning to rain falling harder and soaking them.

      It darkened his clothes, his countenance. His implacable eyes swirled with more emotions than she could name. More emotions than he’d shown last night when he stopped those men. When he tended her wounds.

      ‘You made twenty-five cakes last night,’ he said, enunciating each word until they held a bite.

      ‘And I made twenty-five more this morning,’ she added.

      He leaned forward as if to strangle her and just held back. Even so, she felt his anger, surprise and displeasure as his eyes raked down her now-drenched form.

      She knew she was lacking, knew she was disfigured. But she could cook and bake; she was resourceful. When he left last night, she’d gathered her strength as she thought through her plan of leaving the only home she had. When she’d made up her mind, she left for the kitchens.

      It made sense for Rhain to take her. He had to know her situation. There was no way she could get his money back and consequently she made the rest of the cakes. Even though the kitchen’s heat had pained her more than ever and her ribs protested her every move. But it was worth it because she wanted to thank him for last night and for the expected ride today.

      She didn’t think it would come to this. That she would be bargaining a life for herself over some flour and honey. That she would be using a cake to prove she was worthy of him taking her.

      ‘We have no horse for you,’ he said.

      The village didn’t have any spares. ‘I didn’t expect a horse.’

      Her heart flipped and churned until she was sure he would notice. Something had changed, but she tried not to get her hopes up. He wasn’t saying no any more, though nothing he said yet proved otherwise. He merely talked of horses and convenience, but those were obstacles, not refusal. This couldn’t truly be about his sweet tooth, but exactly what it was about, she didn’t know.

      His tightly locked countenance told her nothing. Especially since even though his hood was up, he was almost too precisely beautiful to be real. The only indications that he was real were the slight exasperation of his breath and the fleeting emotions in his amber eyes.

      ‘I’m not a savior,’ he said.

      She, of all people, knew no one was and that she didn’t deserve one. ‘I’m not asking you to be.’

      He nodded once, scanned his eyes